1.  Tik Man

2.  Seeing Straight

3.  Still

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has always sat patiently through scores and scores of books. I used to read about the Poor Mothers who had to read the same thing over and over, and rested content that my superior parenting skills  meant my son never obsessed over single stories. That was before Son 2 aged 21m. Enter  Stick Man.  “Tik Man.  Tik Man.”  From the minute he wakes up till our bedtime no-wriggle-room routine . “Tik Man. Tik Man.”  Stick Man has so many of Son 2’s Favourite Things. There is a dog, birds, sticks (naturally), a beach and a great section on being Stuck - another most-beloved phrase “DHUK!” “DHUK!”  “What would you like to read next darling?  Tiddler?  Feelings? PIrate-lift-the-flap? Farm-lift-the-flaps?” “Tik Man.  Tik Man.”

The MAn and I met in The Big Town to have our eyes tested. The optician is the father of one of Son 1’s best friends.  Optician’s Son 1 has impetigo. They have been told they will all get it.  “Are you all right?” he asked. “We’re all fine. I’m just worried about my eyes.  I can’t see in the dark, my distance vision is getting worse, I couldn’t see the splinter in Son 1’s finger in Kensington Gardens… I can’t see the boys’ scalps to check for lice and I can’t read ingredients or instructions on food packets.  It’ s clearly the result of too much computer-screen work, we agreed, although with everyone else it’s age-related. The Optician says I need a new pair of contact lenses because mine are scratched, and if I just go and buy a weak pair of off-the-shelf glasses they’ll help. And yes, I probably need to wear glasses with my contact lenses.  This is apparently the point where many people give up their lenses for glassses. I don’t know if I could . I’ve worn contact lenses for 31 years.

 Back home we took the  boys to the yacht club. Son 1 took his new golf set and played with Little Friend aged 4, whose mummy and daddy were also there.   The boys had a great time. At the start, Son 1 couldn’t hit a golf ball… by the time we left he had a respectable swing. Son 2 ran up and down bouncing a tennis ball. The Man and I had a couple of drinks and then came back. We put them to bed at half past nine and we are so praying we get a lie in tomorrow. Today’s fantastically good thing to top all good things was that for the third or fourth night in a row, when I left Son 2 he didn’t cry his eyes out. I  left him,said night night, walked out and  we didn’t hear a peep from him. Except through two run-throughs of Stick Man. .

1.  A Dark And Stormy Night 

2.  Sea Breeze 

3.  What A Beautiful Day

Oh What A Night.   Son 2 aged 17m woke up at about 2300m and The  Man went to him. I went upstairs… The Man was already in bed with Son 2.   I went to bed and Son 2 still fretted and called, and called and fretted.   Son 1 aged 4y 4m cried out.  I heard The Man snoring.  My left ear,  which has been cracking since last summer was agony if I lay on it.  After well over an hour of Son 2 bawling and miaowing. I went down.  The Man had Son 2 and Son 1 in bed with him.  I sent him and Son 1 upstairs, gave Son 2 Calpol and snugged down with him.  At 0130 I said if he didn’t go to sleep he was going back in his cot.  At 0200 he was asleep on the bed, and I went downstairs to sort my ear out and get a cup of tea. He started howling again.  I came back upstairs and put him in the cot.  I bent down next to him for a good 20 minutes, killing my ear, jaw and throat.  He finally passed out.  At last A Good Thing. I went downstairs and drank tea till 3am.  And then went to sleep in Son 1’s bed. 

  Son 1 slept till gone 9am. The first time he’s still been asleep in bed when Wonder Nanny arrived.   We rang his Best Friend.  Going to the Gardens by the Beach with their scooters.  We were under pressure, because Son 2 was so tired after his disturbed night.  We loaded up the car with The Big Pram (portable bed,) Son 1’s scooter, Son 1’s skates, knee and elbow pads and helmet, and Son 2’s pushalong car.  When we got there Best Friend had had such a huge tantrum that he wasn’t allowed in the Gardens, and had no telly all day.  We went on The Beach.  Son 2 loved it.  He was still screaming to stay awake when I wheeled him up and down to get him to sleep at 1330.  Amazing stamina.  Must get it from his father.   The split lip is still looking pretty grim.

A Northerly, so we were protected a little on The Beach, the sun shone, the air was clear, children ran around everywhere.  Next to us we had a half-term club, who had a parachute,  piles of buckets and spades, and a huge sand racing car they’d dug.  They wanted Son 2 to sit in it.  Until he started taking great handfuls out of the steering wheel and bonnet.   Our four welcomed a stream of small children who wandered in and out of their play zone…   Son 1 in the end folded.  He’s still got his temperature thing, where he suddenly starts to burn up, and he wanted to go home. I have a nasty feeling he’s just not drinking enough.  Being positive, we now have a new sticker chart.  He can have a star each time he has a cup of juice/water/milk.  And so we’ll soon find out if it’s a dehydration thing.

1.  Sleeping In My Bed

2.  Banana Cake

3.  The Play Den

Midnight.  A stir in the air which means Son 1 aged 4y 4m is heading upstairs.  Son 2 aged 16m started roaring.  I sat up.  Son 1 crawled into bed behind me.  I waited to see if Son 2 would settle, but he wanted someone to come, and he was doing his shouting-so-angrily-you-can-hear-his-throat-strain thing. “Did you wake Son 2 up?” I asked Son 1. “No.” “Did you peek in his room at all?” “I didn’t go in his room.”  Son 2 was using everything he had, heels upwards, in his yelling.  I went downstairs to him.  The quilt of the bed in his room was turned back.  Son 1 had obviously got in the bed, snugged across unsuccessfully looking for a parent, padded away upstairs… and set his brother off.  By 0130 Son 2 was back in a deep sleep.  I plopped him in the cot, and went next door to sleep in Son 1’s bed.  I was freezing and needed an extra blanket.  Ah.  Son 1’s broken nights have coincided with this cold snap.  We are indeed Terrible Parents.

In the morning I told Son 1 that someone had, indeed, been into Son 2’s bedroom in the night and woken him up.  Son 1 laughed.  “It was me.”  Son 2 wanted food.  I took him downstairs while I made drinks and snacks.  He stood on dining chairs propped up by the worktops.  Direct line of sight to  the tub containing banana cake made by Wonder Nanny on Friday.  “Aahhh,” points Son 2.  I don’t think it’s possible to deflect Son 2 from a food mission once he’s got an idea in his head.  He ate two pieces.  And another piece for breakfast.

Son 1 had an invitation to a joint Nursery party at a Tourist Attraction 30 miles away.  The day was planned.  Son 2’s sleep.  Lunch. In the car and off we go.  Son 2, bunged up with banana cake,  wouldn’t eat an atom of lunch.     We walked into the Tourist Attraction. “You know Mummy, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Son 1, taking in the slides, the soft play, and the Big Uns’ playstuff.   Half the size of the Bird Park play area, with four times as many children.   He sat on the sides, swinging his legs, and trying to get me to ask his Nursery friends to play with him.   He got there in the end.  Son 2 loved it.  Ball pool, play with the air jets.  Slides.  Climbing over the Big Uns’ playstuff. 90 minutes of heaving Son 2 up and down, round and along… sometimes checking on Son 1, sometimes playing with him, and it was time for Party Tea.  I tried to get Son 2 to eat a ham sandwich.  He settled for a chocolate doughnut.  At last I could go and get a cappacino.  The coffee machine was out of order.  Twenty minutes later, an announcement.  The loos were also out of order.  Tea over, more play, and then we rounded up our balloons and headed home, listening to Peter Pan and (one of us) munching cake and eating lollipops all the way.

1.  Night And Day

2.  Every Time We Say Goodbye

3.  Too Darn Hot

Oh Man.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m had another rubbish night, burning up, sweating, red in the face, crying.  His ears are fine but he says his throat is sore.  Son 2 aged 16m has the same, raging temperature - measured only with hand-on-forehead… absolute “no” from him to thermometer-in-the-ear - and not knowing what to do with himself.  Overnight, both dosed with Ibuprofen, calpol and liquids.  Son 1 was off Nursery, which isn’t a logistical problem because we have Wonder Nanny.  But I had a jam-packed day at the Office and there was nothing I could do about it.  Two poorly little boys who just wanted their Mummy and off I went, knowing I would think of nothing else all day.

At 1230 a colleague came by.  “Your Mum rang. She wanted to know how the boys are.”  Hell fire. I hadn’t had a minute.  I rang Wonder Nanny.  Son 1 answered.  “How are you?” “Not all right.”  “How is Son 2?” “He’s asleep.”  Wonder Nanny had dosed them, kept them quiet and they seemed ok.  “I was just about to text you,” she said.  “I know you’d be worried.”  I didn’t have time to ring Nanna…

By the time I got back, Son 1 was in his pyjamas with his temperature raging again, and Son 2 was in his cot asleep.  I was bereft.  All I wanted to do was wake Son 2 so I could be with him.  I went upstairs to get changed, and he woke up.  I got him to sleep and went in to Son 1.  “My poorliness is back again.” Son 2 woke again.  He howled.  Son 1 came in with us.  i went down, The Man took over.  Nanna rang.  I still hadn’t called her back. The Man came down after an hour, and Son 2 started again.  He woke Son 1.  They both bayed, louder and louder, in a comical, horrible duet.  The Man went to be with Son 2 while I finished work (and quickly wrote this) and then I’ll sort out Son 1.  We’ll swap boys at bedtime.

1. After The Shot

2. Spot A Lot

3. Got Shot

Son 2 aged 14m up at 0515.  Maybe-he’ll-roll-over-and-go-back-to-sleep-for-the-first-time-ever, I drowsed.  Louder.  More insistent.  I sent The Man downstairs.  Son 2 cannot be rewarded with Mummy for Night-time Waking.  The Man went into  Son 2’s room, and the roof blasted off into orbit. Agitated, furious, inconsolable and atom-crackingly loud.  I went downstairs. The Man gave me Son 2.  He was instantly silent.   I put him in the bed with me and he went back to sleep.   I’m sure it’s the MMR.  He’s so little and I bet the dose is enough to immunise all those whopping 100-centile babies.  All I really want to do is snuggle up in bed with him.  But I know I’ll regret it because I won’t get enough sleep.  When we get on top of our money again I want a massive bed big enough for 4.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m was up late and whingeing and whining about going to Nursery. “I don’t want you to go to work,” he sobbed at the top of his voice.  They swap tips like that at playtime at Nursery.  “And then, if you really want to make them feel crap, make a couple of tears roll out of the corners of your eyes while you yell it in your shakiest voice.”  In the car he cheerfully spotted lorries, police cars, post vans and dogs, while singing his song about how happy he is. 

Late picking him up, quelle surprise.  He chattered all the way home.  We spotted stars, and sang Twinkle Twinkle.  The street light outside our house has been out of action for a couple of days now.  This is a Good Thing.  We can see stars in the sky above the river outside.  Son 2’s bedroom is darker, which I think may be helping him stay settled in the evenings again.  The dawns are better, blue-grey light fading up against deep dark clouds.  And the full moon was more spectacular too.  We’ve been here eight years and the street light has obliterated all that… so I’m rather hoping council cost-cutting will keep it switched off.

1. Welcome home, Daddy

2. The Last Day

3. The First Lesson

The Man got back at 2.30am.  Son 2 aged 11m woke up at 0345 and SCREAMED.  I tried everything.  I rocked him standing up, put him in the cot, lay him on the double bed with me next to him, and he just wriggled and writhed and cried and crawled up and down the bed till I had to put him back in the cot.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m had been in the Big Bed with me, and came padding down looking for me, went into his room, and to his delight, found The Man there, so they were both in the single bed.  I gave Son 2 calpol, I changed his nappy.  He was beside himself.  In the end we moved the fan from Son 1’s room to Son 2’s room, I lay down with him  and he passed out with the white noise.  I was telling a colleague from The Office about it this morning: “He just wanted to be held upright.”  Ah, I thought as I said it.  The one thing I didn’t try was Gaviscon.  I bet he had reflux.  In mitigation Your Honour, it was 4am and I have just done five 19 hour days in a row, solo. 

It was Son 1 aged 3y 11m’s last day at The Nursery today.  This is quite a big thing for me, but I know nothing about it.  The Man picked the boys up, and I got back from The Office late because I needed to finish something off.  Son 1 never has a clue what he did at Nursery, and The Man, who did a 20 hour day yesterday, plus the 4am family get together, went to bed after his takeaway.  Son 1 went into The Nursery a day before he was 6 months old.   The Man did stop off and bought the Nursery Nurses a couple of boxes of Milk Tray, but… but… but… it feels like An Event to me, and we haven’t had An Event to mark it.  I do hope Son 2 will be ok there without him.

I’ve given in and have bought a couple of learning to read and write books.  Son 1’s vaguely interested.  On Saturday, in the car with Mother on the way to the Bird Park, she said “I wish I had a memory like yours, Son 1.” And he said “I’m good at finding things too.  The only problem is, I can’t read.”  He said it to The Man this morning too.  He has got such a spookily fantastic memory that I’m kind of wondering if it will in fact be easier for him if he learns now.  Oh well, I’ll try it and if he hates it we’ll toss the books aside and have another Teddy Bears’ picnic instead.   We’ve got as far as A a.  

1.  White noise

2.  Peter Pan

3.  Quality time

Lordy, Son 2 aged 10m. 0030am, woke up howling.  He was really hot, so we gave him calpol, water, and put a fan on.  White noise, I thought.  Bound to help him back to sleep.  He just sat up, pointing himself in the fan’s direction (too dark to see it.)  0600 up, wants his feed.  I think in cave baby days the mothers just used to curl up on the bearskin with the snoozing children in the daytime.  It’s the only way this can be evolutionally possible.  On a positive note, because The Man was going away today, he stayed up with Son 2 last night.

The package full of Son 1 aged 3y 10m’s birthday party stuff was delivered to The Office.  I was late back, and completely crashed Wonder Nanny’s finish time.  She was, as always, saintly about it.  Son 1 was just gibbering over his box.  He was allowed to open it; he was allowed to get out the packets and look at them; he was not allowed to open them.  Peter Pan napkins, cups, plates, banners etc everywhere.  Son 2 was absolutely into it too, pulling things out of the box, shaking them, looking at them, making the plastic on the packets rattle and eating them.  “Thank you mummy for my lovely Peter Pan things.  I love them,” said Son 1.  I got kisses, I got cuddles.  And then I got: “My birthday is too long.  I want it now.”  “It’s Son 2’s birthday first,” I said.  ” You need to think about what you want to get him for a present.”  “I know THAT,” said Son 1, crossly.

Got Son 2 to bed.  Got Son 1 to bed.  The Man rang.  Put the side of Son 2’s cot up.  Woke Son 2.  MELTDOWN. Fed him again.  He’s batting his ear madly.  I  wonder if he’s going to,  again, prove me entirely unreasonable and come down with some bug.  I have decided to view the crying not as time stolen from me, and not to think about my delayed food, or the pile of work I still had to do.  Instead I will view it as what I’ve always wanted: more time with the baby.